The words that corrupt
by Deception inc
Summary: Few things were as entertaining as watching the elves of Greenwood make an appearance, and yet it was the youngest of them that caught his interest. Full of life and innocence... it pleased Sauron to a strange degree. : Dark oneshot. Prologue for the "Sauron's beloved elves" story arc.


_Summary: Few things were as entertaining as watching the elves of Greenwood make an appearance, and yet it was the youngest of them that caught his interest. Full of life and innocence... it pleased Sauron to a strange degree._

_A/N: I won't lie, this isn't my greatest work. Frankly, I can barely believe I got it done! Writing has been difficult lately, as my concentration keeps slipping. But it's all is over and done with now. My computer's been fixed, my health returns, and hopefully with it, my concentration and my inspiration. Again, I might return later to fix any mistakes._

_This story was, in many ways, inspired by a review I'd gotten for Whispers from the second age, from a guest calling themselves "the emperor". Credit for where credit is due, the review made me think, and from those thoughts a story was born._

**Lord of the Rings**

** The words that corrupt**

The elves loved their little festivities more than any other race. Of course it could be argued that as immortals, it fell upon each and every one of them to find enjoyment where they could. Celebrating everything and anything was only one way of many, and when all other options had been exhausted the only question left was; what elf did not enjoy lavish feasts, captivating music, careless dancing and little deeds that would never be spoken of again.

As night time fell, braziers lit the courtyard and long rows of candles lead through the hallways to a carefully lit ballroom where light and shadow danced upon glittering dresses and fair faces, well, even Sauron had to admit to enjoying himself.

And yet, it was not so much the beauty of the night that held his eyes captive, nor was it the graceful movements of those dancing under the chandeliers. His attention was with the company that had recently arrived, their King greeting the Lord and Lady of the house with flawless manners and gentle words. Few things were as interesting as watching the elves of Greenwood make an appearance, for they knew how to draw the gazes of an entire room, or to pass entirely unnoticed, whichever struck their fancy at the time. It made the noldor surrounding them uncomfortable, which in turn pleased Sauron to a strange degree. Watching them reminded him of the past.

The maia remembered well how in the beginning he'd walked among these beloved creatures of Eru Ilúvatar, comparing his future subjects and entertaining the thought of how they would slowly be brought under his will. Perhaps they would become helplessly twisted under his careful care. Perhaps they would break. Perhaps he'd even take the enjoyment in creating something terrible.

Until he had, by some cruel trick of the fates, met the untouchable King. The King whose eyes were always cold and whose smiles were always guarded. A King shaped by hatred and hardship. A King whose very presence made others wary. And on that day, Sauron had forgotten, if only for a moment, the plans he'd made for Middle Earth. For a moment he'd spoken with the silvan and forgotten his dislike for this dull world. And then their meeting ended, and the King had returned to his own lands far in the east. The moment had been broken.

The disguised maia had returned to his plans and his forge, and once again entertained himself with thoughts of the future. But he did not forget that meeting. Nor could he forgive it. And so he had done what he knew best, and schemed. Amongst his earliest thoughts had been the temptation to forge a ring for the King of the Woodland Realm, with which to break that stubborn will. But the idea had felt hollow, and it had left him unsatisfied. The King should not be broken. In fact, the King needed to remain untouched. Anything less would destroy everything that had caught Sauron's interest. So then, would he have to conquer the woods? Would he have to bring gifts? Sweet words of peace? Would he have to offer a treaty for an allied kingdom? Sauron did not have an answer, and it had plagued him until now.

Now he watched the woodland elves mingle with those they considered beneath them, bringing their own special kind of enjoyment to the crowds. And among them walked a youngling adorned with a delicately woven circlet upon his head. There was no need for the symbol of royalty, nor the colours of Greenwood upon his tunic for everyone to know his identity. The resemblance this young elf held to Sauron's dear King was uncanny. He held that the same air of pride and strength, but it blended effortlessly with a mischievousness that the woodland elves were so well known for. Everything, from the cold look in his eyes to the set of his shoulders was so very like the King. But most importantly, the elf was young, full of life and innocence. He was... corruptible.

As the King paused to speak with Gil-galad, the Prince drifted away on his own. Under Sauron's watchful eyes, the youth moved from one guest to another, trading greetings and compliments, but Sauron could read a discomfort within the stances of these elves, and they watched the Prince as though he were part of another world... Untouchable, just like his father.

For a while, the youngling watched those who danced, but showed no indication of joining in. He accepted a cup of wine from one of the many who wished to meet him, but did not keep to their company for long. Eventually he had moved over to the other side of the ballroom where he then silently slipped out onto the balcony while all eyes were averted. But the maia saw it. And far be it for him to let such an opportunity pass by.

So Sauron followed, albeit slowly. The other guests wished to speak with him also, and some attempted to invite him for a dance. For each group he'd dislodged, another took it's place, each one reminding him of his ever growing dislike. Nerves and patience growing thin, he declined yet another invitation and waded towards his goal a few steps at a time.

One day, he thought silently. One day none of them would dare to stand in his way. They would bow and part before him unless he ordered them otherwise. And for that day to come, was it not worth to suffer their interference now? His resolve strengthened again, and Sauron excused himself from the last group and moved towards his goal. A thrill ran up his spine as he considered his upcoming victory. He could almost taste the sweetness of it.

He stepped through the doorway and stopped to take in the sight. The cool night breeze felt refreshing after so long in a crowded room. It seemed to caress both him and the young elf, and made the forest around them whisper. In the moonlight everything seemed different, as if the world had shifted over to a dream, and in yet another moment of weakness so reminiscent of the one many, many years ago, Sauron found himself marvelling at the pale light falling upon the young Prince like it would upon a pearl.

"A pity to be indoors, when the gardens are so much more welcoming," he called out, carefully stepping closer as he caught the young elf's attention. "But then, should everyone move to the gardens there would be no more peace for the weary, would there?" The Prince regarded him carefully, attempting to discern his motives, and Sauron offered his kindest smile. Eventually the elf spoke:

"In Greenwood we set out celebrations under the great trees, so peace and enjoyment can walk hand in hand."

"That sounds beyond pleasing. I wish I could experience it myself one day..." The maia replied, then sighed and bowed his head. "Pardon my rudeness, but I don't think we've been introduced." There was silence for a mere heartbeat before the little silvan turned to him fully, now both curious and expectant.

"No, I doubt that we have," he offered in such an earnest voice that unknowingly invited his dangerous companion to play, and the maia could barely contain his delight.

"I am Annatar," Sauron introduced himself softly, one hand rising to his chest as if to confirm of whom he was speaking. It was an innocent movement, calculated and wicked, that drew attention to his body, to his delicate hand and the feather light touch of his long fingers as they slowly trailed down and eventually fell to his hip. But this was an woodland elf that he spoke with, wicked mischief lay in their very blood and the Prince was not so easily thrown of guard. Amusement shone in those cold eyes, along with the knowledge that others would have faltered where he stood firm.

"I am Prince Thranduil Oropherion of the Woodland Realm," he answered, and perhaps there was a bit of youthful arrogance mixed in at the thought that he'd caught the eye of the beautiful Annatar, loved by all. Sauron shivered and carefully suppressed all desires that came to mind, keeping only that charming smile for Thranduil to see. Tempting as it was to shatter that innocence and wrap the Prince in eternal darkness - heart, mind and spirit - now was not the time.

"It is a true pleasure to meet you," the dark maia spoke, and for once he meant every word.

**End.**


End file.
